


Free and Open Nature

by MaraMcGregor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Derek, M/M, Scott-Centric, Witch Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraMcGregor/pseuds/MaraMcGregor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hedgewitch Scott is gathering herbs in the forest near his cottage when he stumbles upon an injured man. Worried, he takes him home and heals him. The two find love on the moors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free and Open Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickLikeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/gifts).



> I do not own these characters. They are the property of MTV and Jeff Davis.
> 
> Special thanks to: Ladybubblegum and Arabwel for checking this over at 3am for me.

Scott sighed happily. The sun was shining through the fluffy clouds, leaving golden light trailing through the forest canopy. He tugged the hood of his cloak off and let the warm light beam down on him. He knew he should focus on gathering the herbs and flowers he was running low on, but the day was too nice to waste.

He turned off the dirt path and onto a trail that led to a hidden spring. Frogs leapt from the lily pads they sat on and into the water. A fox peaked out from behind a rock. Scott settled on the soft ground and trailed his fingers in the water. The ripples reflected the sunlight and settled on an image. Scott had no idea why this particular man showed up every time he looked into the pool. He had never met the surly knight with black hair and green eyes before. Scott had watched him spar and train, sometimes get wounded. Once, he even saw a glimpse of the man in bed, lying with a woman. He had blushed and quickly scattered the image back to the depths of the pond.

This time, the man seemed to be slumped over his horse, holding his ribcage with one arm and the reins with the other. Scott tried to see how badly wounded he was, but the dark clothes concealed much of the blood and wound. He watched as the knight’s shoulders hunched lower and he sagged into the saddle. Time ticked by and the image eventually vanished on it own. Scott was worried for his mysterious man, but knew there wasn’t much he could do when he didn’t even know where to begin searching for him.

Sighing, Scott stood and brushed the leaves from his breeches and shook out his cloak. He checked the sky and realized the sun had already crested and it was well into the afternoon. He would have to hurry to gather what he needed to restock his supplies. Scott wove his way through the familiar section of forest and picked the easier items first. A small spot near the rabbit warren grew two varieties of wolfsbane. The fairy circle was full of mushrooms and even some turkey tail, which he needed to replenish some of his medicinal salves.

He would have to come back the next day to finish. He still needed mistletoe and he didn’t want to climb the oak trees in the dark. Scott tucked his knife away and stored his clippings in various pockets. Hurriedly, he walked back to the dirt path that would lead back to the moors and his cottage. He came out farther down the path than he thought he had been. The shadows always made the trees shift in their spots.

Scott had barely taken three steps when he heard a low groan. His hand went to his knife on his belt. It wouldn’t do much, but hopefully he could fend off a would be attacker long enough to get some distance between them. His eyes darted along the ground and scanned the foliage. Under a bush, he saw dark boots sticking out.

“Are you injured?” Scott edged closer, fingers tightening on the handle of his knife. “Sir. Are you injured?”

Still not getting a response, Scott nudged the boot with his own. Cautiously, he pulled the branches of the bush back, apologizing to it for any disturbance he may have caused. He nearly let the branches go when he saw the man from the reflecting pool laying there unconscious. He kneeled down and placed his hand beneath his nose. Scott let out a breath of relief when he felt warm arm hit his hand.

He pulled back the dark tunic and saw a large wound slashed across the man’s side. Scott knew that he wouldn’t survive the night. He had lost too much blood and it was still seeping out in dark rivulets. Quickly, he walked back to the trees and felt their bark for moss. Finding a large patch on one, he slid his blade behind it and removed it in one piece. With a bit of water from his canteen, he cleaned the wound and pressed the moss to it. Scott tore the bottom of the man’s tunic and used it to tie the makeshift poultice in place.

Scott grabbed an arm and tried to lift the man enough so that he could support his weight, but he was heavier than he had anticipated. With all the jostling, he still hadn’t woken up. Scott lifted his face to the heavens and begged the stars for guidance. An owl hooted from somewhere to his right. There, fallen on top of some briars was a large branch that divided into two arms. Whispering his thanks again, Scott pulled off his cloak and tethered it to the branch, making a travois. It wasn’t his best work, but it would suffice to get them both back to his cottage.

His back pulled and strained. Scott could feel every muscle work over time as he dragged his passenger over the rough terrain of the moor. He could see the faint outline of his home on top of the hill, but the normally easily traversed distance seemed like miles. The moon was high and bright by the time he managed to make it to the door. Sweat soaked his tunic. He placed his hand on the door and focused. The door opened inward with a click to a warm and cozy room.

Firelight danced along the bookshelves and smoke curled through the air. His cauldron was set just to the side, ready to be placed on the heat. Drying herbs hung from the wooden beams. He pulled the travois into the middle of the floor and set it down gently. The mysterious man seemed even worse in the light coming from the fire. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His lips seemed waxen and his skin had lost all color.

Pushing the door closed, Scott moved around the prone form. He wished the man would wake, but considering his state, it was unlikely if he would even regain consciousness in the morning. He cleared off his table and tossed a spare blanket over the wood. His legs almost gave out while hoisting the man onto the surface, but he managed. He gently pulled the poultice back, trying not to aggravate the gaping wound anymore than necessary. The moss had done it’s job and seemed to stem the blood loss. Seeing no eminent emergency, Scott pressed it back down for the moment.

He pulled his various clippings and shavings from his trip and set them out to be bundled and hung to dry. Pulling bottles and jars down from his shelves he checked his cauldron. It was half full with water and clear. Swinging it over the fire, he waited for it to come to a simmer before adding his ingredients. Normally, Scott would want to use more fresh moss, but all he had was in storage. It still had some spring to it, but it wouldn’t be as absorbent. The brew bubbled and he added his ingredients, stirring occasionally to keep everything from settling to the bottom and burning. Once it came to the proper consistency, Scott removed it from the fire to let it cool.

Scott checked the man’s temperature one more time before going upstairs to search his drawers for a shirt that might fit the larger man. He didn’t have much. Everything would be too tight across the broad shoulders and, more importantly, his torso. His sleep shirt would have to do in place of a tunic until he could sit and make something more appropriate.

On his way back to his patient, he grabbed a bowl and rag to start cleaning the wound and surrounding areas. The tunic was a loss. Scott used his knife and cut the remnants away, revealing a gorgeously defined chest that he had only ever caught glimpses of through the reflecting pool. He forced himself to focus on his job and not the beautiful physique of the stranger. Gently, he removed the blood, sweat, and grime from the man. Careful not to start the bleeding again, he pulled back the poultice and let it drop to the floor. He didn’t see anything in the wound, but to be sure, he flushed it with the water. A little bit more blood oozed out, but nothing started gushing anew.

The healing salve was cool enough to use. Scott would place the rest in their proper jars after he was done tending the man. He smeared the salve liberally over the wound and covered it with the freshest section of moss that he had. Scott anchored everything down with his homemade muslin bandages. Grabbing another blanket, he made sure the man’s bare chest was covered. The last thing he needed was for him to catch a case of lung fever.

Scott settled in for the night on the chair by the fire. If the man woke up, he wanted to be close by to assure him that he was safe and taken care of.

The morning dawned bright and clear. Song birds chirped outside and a breeze swept through the windows of the cottage. Scott folded his blanket and checked on his patient. His color had started to return and he didn’t seem to be plagued by the sweats. He cleaned the wound and changed the dressing, happy to see there was no additional redness and no infection had gotten past his salve and poultice.

He made himself busy, bundling the herbs and setting them to dry, jarring the healing salve, and cleaning the small first floor. He was just about to start a broth for soup when he heard a low groan come from the table.

Scott had to rush to the man’s side. “Sir. You need to stay still. You were wounded badly. If you move too much, you’ll injure yourself again.”

Slurred words tumbled from the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.” Scott grabbed the nearby water pitcher and poured some into a cup. “Drink some before trying again.”

The man drained it in two deep swallows. “I have to leave. I can’t be here.”

Scott pressed a firm hand to his bare shoulder. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

He shrugged the hand off and struggled to sit up right. “You don’t understand. They’ll kill you just for helping me.”

Scott snorted. “No one is killing anyone. You are safe here. Just rest and get well.”

The man stared into Scott’s brown eyes, “They will not rest until my family is wiped from the earth. And they will destroy anyone and anything in their path. I can’t let you suffer because of my mere presence.”

“I understand that you think you are in danger. And maybe you are. But no one is going to come here looking for you. They can’t. Not a single person can cross the border onto my lands without my permission. I assure you, you are safe.”

“Lands? I thought there were no major holdings in this area.”

Scott waved a hand at his small dwelling. “Does this look like a major holding to you?” He waited as his patient took in his surroundings. “I have what land I have earned and was given to me. It is more than enough to keep you safe. You are fortunate that you stumbled almost to the border of the moor. Otherwise, I never would have found you.”

The man ran a hand over his bandaged side. He felt slightly ashamed at forgetting his manners. “Thank you, for healing me and your hospitality. You are very kind for helping someone you’ve never met.”

Scott felt his ears start to heat up. He had no intention of confessing that he had seen the man many times before. “It’s nothing. I was getting some soup ready for lunch. It would do you good to eat.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He paused and stared at his odd host. He couldn’t fathom anyone being so calm after being told that they were in imminent danger. Yet, here he was, puttering around the kitchen, dicing vegetables and tossing them in a pot, as if he didn’t have a care in the world beyond feeding his guest. “What’s your name?”

“Scott,” he responded with a smile.

“Aren’t you going to ask for mine?”

Scott shook his head. “Names have power. If you wish to tell me, you are welcome to. I swear that you can trust me with it.”

Confused by the strange sentiment he spoke, “Derek Hale, Knight Errant.”

“Sir Hale, it’s an honor to have you in my home.”

“Derek is fine.” He was pleased that he chose to give Scott permission to use his first name, the responding smile lit up his face and made him believe that a person truly could be the embodiment of the sun.

“May I ask how you became wounded?”

Derek struggled to swing his legs over the side of the table and address Scott properly. “The Argents and the Hales have an ancient blood feud. I was on my way back home, but strayed too close to their holdings. I fought them off, but Lady Victoria Argent was struck by a stray arrow. They will lay the fault at my feet. If they can’t kill me in retribution, they will kill my family.”

“It’s a long way to the Argent lands from here. What happened?”

“I don’t know. The last thing I remember was sitting on my horse. I could have sworn that I was almost home. But, I can’t remember anything else.”

Scott hummed. He had a sneaking suspicion that Derek ran across a particularly interfering group of wood nymphs. It wouldn’t be the first time they brought someone to his doorstep that they thought would be a good match. “Well, if they do show up here, they won’t be able to do anything about it. In the meantime, let’s get you healed and strong enough to make the journey home.”

A breeze blew through the cottage and knocked the broom over from its resting place. Scott sighed, definitely the wood nymphs and it seemed the faeries had given them some help.

Days passed and Scott hung on to every gruff word spoken. He had always imagined that the knight in the reflecting pool would be suave and debonair. Derek was anything but. He was handsome and had very practiced manners. However, he had a rough edge to him. He seemed constantly on guard. For some reason, every time Scott looked him directly in his eyes, he would splutter and blush, incapable of finishing his sentence. Scott loved those moments. He knew he was setting himself up for heartbreak. One day soon, his knight would leave for home and find someone suitable to make a wife and inherit his estate.

Derek puttered around the small kitchen, putting away their bowls from lunch, when the house shook. Startled, he glanced around, searching for what made the ground beneath his feet move. Just as he opened his mouth to call Scott, he saw him rush down the stairs, swinging his cloak over his shoulders as he made for the door.

“Stay inside!”

Derek was taken aback. No one had dared give him such blatant orders since his father had released him from training. He looked out the window, watching Scott dash across the stony outcroppings of the moor. In the distance, he could make out a line of people on horseback. Straining to see who it was, he caught a flash of a banner. The Argents had found him. He knew they would eventually come, but he had hoped to have more time with his sweet host and figure out how to approach him with the budding romance he felt growing every day.

He couldn’t let Scott face the Argents alone. He had no clue how ruthless they could be. The last thing Derek wanted was for Scott to get injured trying to protect him from a centuries old blood feud and a new vendetta. His sword had gone missing the night he had been found by Scott. Instead, he grabbed a kitchen knife and stuck it between his belt and breeches. His side twinged slightly, but whatever Scott had been doing, the wound had healed remarkably fast.

Derek dashed out the door and after Scott. He could see Scott waving his arms at the Argents and gesturing back towards the little stone cottage. Whatever he was saying was not calming down the group standing on the other side of the property line. Derek couldn’t understand why they didn’t just cross into Scott’s property and take what they were after. As he drew closer he could finally make out what Scott was saying.

“You are not welcome here. Leave and forget your petty vengeance.”

“If we cannot cross onto the moor, then you will bring Hale to us.”

“That will never happen. Sir Hale is under my protection and the protection of the Fae. If you dare to continue, you will not like what will happen to you.”

“You threaten us? We are nobility. You have no right to cheat us of our vengeance.”

The rider on the end pulled out his bow and fired an arrow at Scott. Derek could only watch in horror as the projectile soared directly at Scott’s head. Just when the arrow should have pierced his skull, a flash of purple erupted and the arrow bounced off the light and fell uselessly to the ground.

“Witch!” the man bearing the Argent banner accused.

Scott didn’t budge. He stared at the Argents, letting the word hang in the air. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and the banner. Slowly, it built to a howling wind. The trees bent. The Argent banner was pulled free and flew over the canopy of the forest. The horses started to buck and neigh. “Enough! You can have your pathetic knight.”

The wind slowed down to a gentle breeze once more. Scott kept his gaze on the leader. “Swear to me that his family will remain unharmed. Swear it on your name.”

The man gritted his teeth. “I swear on the name Argent that we shall not pursue further vengeance upon the Hales.”

Scott nodded his acceptance. “So mote it be. You are free to go.” He kept his eyes trained on the riders until they had vanished down the forest path. He turned around to face Derek. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. But, I didn’t -”

Derek hated the distraught look in Scott’s eyes. He could see Scott’s fear of rejection plainly etched in the furrow of his brow and downturned lips. Derek couldn’t stand bringing this kind soul such pain. Without taking the time to think through his actions, he stepped into Scott’s space and caressed his jaw. “Don’t apologize. You have done more for me than anyone in a long time.”

Scott’s eyes drifted down, staring at the grass. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re almost healed as it is.”

Struggling to not roll his eyes at the well-intentioned man, Derek pushed his head back up with his fingers. “I can’t imagine leaving you.” Slowly, he brought his lips to Scott’s. He kept them pressed there for a moment and felt the tension seep out of the man’s body.

Scott opened his mouth and met the kiss with all the tenderness he possessed. Derek felt like his soul was being filled with summer sunshine. He had never felt so at peace than with his witch.

 


End file.
